


Angels May Die

by FluffNAwesome



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Love Triangle, Referances tales in the book of enoch, Some Cursing, but have fun y'all, demonology/angelology, i'm not the best writer, sex later, time skips later, who the reader winds up with is up to fans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffNAwesome/pseuds/FluffNAwesome
Summary: “...Father…” You finally gasp it out between breathes, your skin aglow under the blue torchlight, “...Devil hunters...they...they come for you again…”You are a child of one of the 20 leaders of the rebellion against Heaven; The Fallen Angel Azazel, and have spent your life within the stone tower that leads down to the place he is imprisoned. One day, you wake up to ominous news, and in a very short time, your life is changed forever.





	1. Prologue: Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place between Devil May Cry 4 and Devil May Cry 2 on the timeline, but will time jump to the event after Devil May Cry 2 leading up to Devil May Cry 5 at some point. Giving explanations for what we’ve seen in the trailer etc.
> 
> "Playlists" can be found at the bottom of each Chapter. Due to how important epic music is to the Devil May Cry games, I felt it was essential to include these to not only aid in setting the tone, but to foreshadow later events.
> 
> Devil May Cry is not mine. The characters are not mine. I wrote this story for my own enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of the reader.

Prologue: Winds of Change

Your tower is cold despite the heat of the seemingly infinite desert outside. Scarce any furniture lies within it, and what few there is is ancient...carved out of the same stone cliff as the walls, floor, and tower you call home itself. You shift in your sleep, trying to position yourself so that your thin silk sheets can better keep you warm. Yet, the countless windows carved into the tower walls let in the wind, and your presences draws it near. Your only friend in this dead, lifeless place, it whispers to you all it’s seen and heard on it’s journey to you. It’s whispers tickle your ears, and rouse you awake. Your eyes snapping open at the mention of men with weapons headed this way, your eyes flashing to a pale green for a second before returning to their natural color in fear as you quickly sit up and jump out of bed. Running down the hundreds of tower stairs into the depths below, the wind playing with the long trails of your silk nightgown. Your father must be warned.

You keep running, bare feet hitting the cold stone steps until you reach the base of the tower, where the windows end, and the stairs continue deep, deep into the depths of the desert.

“Father!” You call out into the depths, your fear plain in your voice, and in response to your voice, blue light emits from the darkness down below as if to calm you. One by one, torches are hastily lit, the light growing, until it reaches the entrance torch near you, and you finally let out the breathe you’ve unknowingly been holding. Heading down into the blue-lit abyss where even your good friend, the wind, is too frightened to enter.

You keep your pace from before, the journey from your room in the top of the tower to your father at the very bottom of it’d depths is not a new one. It is a trek you are used to making. The constant exercise has shaped your frame, making it slender, with long legs, and frame with such elegance and grace that it belies your strength. Still, your panic has your breathe far more short and desperate then usual, and you are panting when you reach the bottom. Men with weapons only ever enter this lifeless desert for one reason and one reason alone:

“...Father…” You finally gasp it out between breathes, your skin aglow under the blue torchlight, “...Devil hunters...they...they come for you again…”

Your father’s form is not human...goat like horns protruding from his head like a natural crown, jewels hanging from then that jingle when he moves. His ears are pointed and hi armour covers his face, and gives his legs the appearance of hooves, but you know him to be a beautiful being under the weight of the holy chains of light that bind him to the stone. Their weight making every breath he takes a struggled gasp, and their light constantly burning him as his demonic nature heals him, leaving him perpetually in a cycle of pain. One he has long been doomed to be entrapped in until the end of days...when Heaven shall finally have mercy on this fallen leader of rebellions, and end his suffering. You know him as your father from the love you feel coming from him, despite his eons of pain, from the matching colors of your hair, and how you somehow know that under the metal mask on his face, his goat-pupilled eyes are the same color as your own, even if your own pupils differ.

“My...child…” He gasps weakly, “Take your weapons, and go hide as you’ve been taught...they cannot kill me...Heaven himself as ensured that I will stay alive to suffer…”  
He chuckles bitterly, the low sound that echoes through the tower ending in a strangled cough.

“The scrape-goat of heaven…”

You hate seeing him like this...although you are but a young women, having lived a little over two decades, he has been this way since before your birth. Yet, despite his suffering, he took care to teach and raise you all he could while immobile. Using what power he could to raise this tower to be your home, and provide food for you. No matter how lonely the days and nights are, or how the silence when the wind dies is sometimes such that you think you may go mad from it, this demon before you is the only other person in your life, and you care for him dearly. Even if he will not die from it. Even if you are not experienced, nor all that skilled in fighting, you cannot allow him to go through any more pain. Not while he lies chained here, defenseless.

Not this time.

You shake your head violently, tears spilling from your eyes…

“Man, women, heaven, or hell, I would fight it all for you, father.”

“...Truly, my child, you are of my blood.” Comes the fond reply...love coming through every gasped out word.

Quickly, you summon out Pazuzu, your blade, and Ilmarinen, your hammer, and head upstairs to get dressed.  
You will soon be meeting some very unwelcome guests.

 

Meanwhile, atop a sandrift, many miles away, Two man stand. Their white hair reflecting the blinding light of the desert to the point of glowing near as brightly as the sun itself. The younger of the two stares up at the tower carved into the stone of the cliffs, and radiating demonic energy.

“Woah.”

“ ‘Woah’ doesn’t quite cut it,” The older one responds with a chuckle, “According to the locals, it just appeared one day into the side of that cliff some twenty-odd years ago. Since then, spiritual power in this area has been noticeably growing. Lady thinks it may very well be good ol’ Azazel gaining power, and getting ready to break free. It’s hard to keep track though...the locals only come here once a year for their “Scrapegoat” ritual...no one enters otherwise. It’s too dangerous, and no life ever grows here, anyway.”  
“Ritual?”

The older one sighed, shaking his head, and causing his reflective white hair to almost blink in the sun.

“They symbolically cast all their sins onto a single goat, then bury it alive here in the desert.”

The younger man went silent...staring out to the tower that stood in the center of a desert where nothing grew, and wondered what “sins” had the demon Azazel shouldered to have been buried there. 

 

PROLOGUE PLAYLIST:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftkJNilA4Ao  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1BPsLOQKhK4  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbJPunHz5qQ  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwhuHV_hutc  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ScVWkYZkZFk  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6LD2B_kDQ  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyA7rdaK74Q


	2. Erosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Secrets are unearthed.

Chapter 1: Erosion

 

You stood now, atop your tower...your home, dressed in light armor on your arms and legs, short shorts, and a silk blouse, waistcoat with long swallow tails, and hooded jacket, wrapped in a long scarf that kept the sand from your mouth, and flowed about you like wings...everything decorated with ribbons that blew around you in the wind, and intricate gold jewelry. Your eyes the pale mint green they took on when you from frightened, angry or determined...right now, you were all of the above. Your hand gripping Pazuzu’s hilt so hard, your knuckles go white. Your eyes able to clearly see the pair of men below despite the wind and sand in their current state, your good friend, wind, carrying their conversation to you;

“Look, Nero, we know why we’re here...if we gotta give the old man a fight to get what we want, then so be it. There’s too much on the line here.”

“Don’t talk as if I don’t fucking know that, you old geezer.”

You cannot see their faces, as their hair is too blindingly bright in the sun...but you don’t care for their reasons, or what they deem important enough to enter this God-forsaken desert for. YOU have too much on the line...the only one you have, the only person you’ve had in your life since the day you were born lies chained to stone at the bottom of this tower. You walk towards the edge as the pair of men draw nearer, waiting until they are just below you, then, you step off the edge, slicing through the air carefully with Pazuzu, sending wave after wave of wind that cuts like blades down on the pair. They dodge, but you are able to change your direction as you fall, landing on one, The force of such a high fall knocking him down to the ground, forcing the air from his lungs as his face is pushed into the sand, and you straddle his back, pinning him there with your thighs. You yank the man you landed on’s head back by the hair, and put Pazuzu to his throat, hissing angrily at the second man;

“How dare you both come to the place...craving power from a man who can’t even defend himself…” You think of all the times other men have come...women too...how you have hid in the desert from them, yet no matter how far you ran, your father’s screams from the pain they’ve brought him have reached you. No more of this! Your memories bring tears to your eyes, and you blink them back in frustration, trying to focus on the task at hand; “...You...you cowardly mortals!”

The man still standing’s hand glows, the tears in your eyes prevent you from seeing it’s movements, but suddenly, there’s a ghostly clawed hand near you, and your shock is such that there is no time for you to react before the giant hand has flicked Pazuzu from your grasp. You curse, trying to catch it, but that same hand grabs you, pulling you into the arms of the man with the glowing arm. You curse and struggle, but the man just frowns at you.

“...You’re not very good at this, are you?”

“Speak for yourself.” The first man sputters, spitting sand out of his mouth and laughing as he wipes the rest of the sand off his face with the back or his hand, “Been awhile since I had someone try to take ME from behind.”

You growl, the innuendo lost on you, “I can take you from ANY direction you slobbering mass of-”

“Promises promises.” The man responds, wagging if finger at you at he stands up and dusts himself off, “NOW...who are you and to what do we owe the pleasure o-”

He’s unable to finish his sentence, as you are quickly colored in a soft green light that twists and swirls around you in elegant patterns like the wind itself, and soon, feathers are intermingled with it as your wings emerge, knocking back the arms holding you. Your tail soon follows, forcing the man who grabbed you back with it’s sharp stinger. The emergence of these hidden parts of you ripping the backs off your blouse, waist-coat and hood, leaving the clothes hanging in ribbons that barely cover your chest, and force your shorts ever lower on your hips, at risk of falling, but you are desperate.

Your display causes both men to freeze. They have seen numerous devil triggers...but even more so than Mundus’ more “angelic” demonic form...One of the biggest threats Dante has ever faced and defeated, your form now is the most beautiful... Even angelic one they had seen. Nero himself is reminded of the Angelos of Fortuna by it, but realizes, in the light of the desert sun making your white feathers, scales, horns and even your flickering, scorpion-like tail far beyond mere brilliance, that you are far closer to what an angel must look like. Still, the moment of shock brought on by your beauty is short lived, as you launch yourself at the first man, newly formed claws extended.  
It has become clear to you that you cannot match their strength, and their abilities are so unknown to you, that what little you know about fighting is useless. These are not humans, as you suspected. No human is strong enough to keep you in their grasp. Yet...this “Trigger” form of your’s, your true form, cannot be maintained for long, so you hastily shred into the man’s torso, and he does his best to grab for his weapons, gasping;

“What in the hell ARE you?”

You open your mouth to growl a reply, only to cry out instead as you feel a pain right through your left wing and shoulder, you hiss, and turn, swiping at the second man and his distorted, glowing arm with your right, clawed hand. Your hair whipping about your face. Pearlescent white scales framing your face and body flashing in the sun. As lovely as you are dangerous.

“CALM THE FUCK DOWN LADY!” The man with the glowing arm shouts at you, causing you to cry out again as he yanks his sword out of your wing and shoulder. You are bleeding now...red staining the white of your feathered wings as well as the white sands of the desert. 

“You come for my father!” You try to say it confidently, your voice deeper then usual in this form and echoing around them like the wind itself. You try to act as though your injuries are nothing, but you are not built to fight, and your voice is breaking. “I-...I won’t let you hurt him! I won’t let any of you hunters hurt him anymore!”

The man you were tearing into grabs your face...your hood and scarf having long been torn and blown off in the wind, sand sticking to the trails your tears have left on your face. To your shock, his thumbs wipe some of the sand and tears away, and the gentle motion leaves you perfectly still and very confused.

“I get it...you're just protecting your family, huh…?”

“Y-yes, I-”

You are unable to finish, as the man’s grip suddenly tightens, and he bashes his forehead into your own so hard and so quickly that your vision goes spotty, and then black. The force of the blow having knocked you out. Your claws, wings, tail and scales disappearing into the wind as suddenly as they had come.

The younger man, the one with the glowing arm, Nero, sighed, scratching the back of his neck.  
“She was really going after you, huh?”

“What can I say?” The older one, now struggling to speak due to his shredded, bloodied torso, chuckled and scooped you up off the sandy ground regardless, tossing you over his shoulder, “I can’t keep the ladies off of me.”

Nero’s face scrunches up in disbelief, his brow furrowing, “We’re not seriously bringing her-”

“Yep.” Was the older man, Dante’s simple reply, followed with a shrug, “Might make a nice bargaining chip, plus…

 

“...That old geezer’s got some explaining to do.”

Both men head into your tower, marveling at the simplicity, yet beauty of it. The intricate designs and carvings in the stone depicting moments in history long forgotten that you are so used to, that you no longer notice. The detailed flowers made of stone that look real enough and soft enough to touch that adorn everything that you have long accepted as the norm in you ever cycling, changeless days. 

"...This doesn't exactly seem like something one if the leaders of a rebellion against the big man himself would make..." Nero commented, devil bringer very carefully and lightly touching a few flowers made of stone; as if he is trying to prove to himself that they are, infact, not alive. 

"Oh, he made it, alright..." Dante said, he himself tracing an image of a dark knight with a beautiful women in his arms with a hand, thinking, "He made it for someone else..."

Dante givez a meaningful look to you, as you hang limply from his shoulder;  
"Looks like not all demons suck as dads."

"OR he's been pampering and manipulating her to keep her loyal to him," Nero replied, shaking his head, "There's no way she's a demon...not when her true form, her true power is so..."

"...Not all demons look like hideous monsters, Kid...and I've seen some pretty angelic demons myself..." Dante laughs, making his way to the entrance of the stairs that went below ground into darkness, the torches still giving off thing trails of smoke from having been recently lit, "Wanna try putting your money where your mouth is, kid?"

Nero glares at him, Devil bringer, the deformed, clawed arm that was evidence of his demonic heritage, balled up into a fist. Glowing softly as his glare turned to a wicked smirk; "You're that excited to lose again, old man? We both know your luck with bets."

Dante grinned, heading off into the darkness with Nero close behind;  
"Actually I'm more excited that our "family" may not be the only bundle of fuck-UPS around."

The pair went on bantering all the way down. The demon in chains below them hearing them long before their arrival. His weak voice gasping out at them with anger that shook the tower before they even reached the last step.

"MY CHILD...WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER!?"

Dante rolled his eyes, tugging you off his shoulders, and holding your limp frame out into the doorway by your shoulders so the confined demon could see you, and giving you a good shake. 

"Come on little lady, you've been asleep long enough...don't worry your old man." 

The shaking and pain in your wounded shoulder caused your eyes to flutter open, and once you realized where you were and who was holding you, you immediately grabbed onto Ilmarinen, who you typically only used when smithing and upgrading Pazuzu, and twisted to smash the hammer against HIS head. In response, Dante simply gave a tired sigh, and moved his arms to hug you against his bloodied, but already healing chest, immobilizing you. You cursed at him, kicking your legs and screaming threats until you heard your father speak your name, and silenced.

"...my little one...I told you to hide..."

Your face softens, and you look down at your feet in shame, knowing very well how you have failed to protect your dear father.

"...And now a son of Sparda stands before me, holding all that remains of my legacy." The gasping voice sounded so broken, so heartbreakingly defeated and weak...tears once more came to your eyes.

"What do you want of me, son of Sparda? I have little to give, and there is little you can gain of me."

Nero stood back, clearly agitated at being overlooked, but for once biting his tongue...he notices the way your shoulders are shaking in Dante’s grasp, and as casually as he can manage, sighs and stick an arm around Dante in order to wipe at least some of your tears away with his own sleeve. The gesture is not lost on you, or the demon held by chains of light.

“Look, big guy, “Nero finally speaks up, “There are 5 kings of hell left, all trying to take over the human world again, since whoever gains access to that many souls is guaranteed to win. The only demon stronger than the strongest demons in hell right now are you Grigori...you leaders of the rebellion who were the first to become demons. We need YOU.”

Your father laughs weakly, the bitter sound turning into strangled coughs once more;  
“I can do nothing for you, boy. This body of mine is bound by these chains.”

“But your soul AIN’T.”

Dante said it matter-of-factly, drawing the attention of all in the room.  
“Give us that. Become a Devil Arm. Lend us your power to fight, and you won’t have to feel this pain anymore, you won’t have to keep lying here, waiting for the world to end, and this little girl of your’s…?”

Dante’s eyes were locked on your father’s as he somehow managed to press you even tighter to his chest.

“...Trust me when I say a world taken over by demons is no place for a halfbreed like her.”

Recognition shown in your father’s eyes, even as you stared from him to the man holding you and back again in confusion.

“...so you know.”

“It’d be hard no to...but the bigger question is; A halfbreed of what?”

What you could see of your father’s face became full of sadness and loss. 

“Daddy, what is he talking about…?” You could not help but use the more childish term for your father...for you very much felt like a small child in that moment. Small and helpless with no clue what to say and no way to help...

“I wish I knew, son of Sparda...my dear, dear little one whom you hold...in the pain and loneliness I have felt for thousands upon thousands of years, she has been my only relief and company, and I have raised her as my own…”

“Daddy…” The word is now nothing more than a confused and hurt whisper on your tongue, yet still, the fallen angel before you continues.

“...of your kind, you are not the first. Angels are not meant to engage in the affairs of man, but engage we did. We taught them things they were supposed to learn on their own, and granted them direct guidance most of heaven was unwilling to give, Half of us rebelled out of a hatred for humans...for their ability to choose between good and evil so effortlessly...but the other half fell because we became too close to them. Nephilim...the powerful children of fallen angels. Demons will never admit it, but it is due to Nephilim and Fallen angel coupling that demons as you know them now came to be, and it is from the Nephilim who instead chose to be with humans that witches came to be. You are the closest thing to a Nephilium that now exists...the child of a demon and a witch...but my daughter, Pazuzu, was one of the originals. I bid her away when I knew the angel Raphael hunted for me. I sent her far far away, begged her to keep hidden...her mortal mother having long passed due to old age...but 20 and one years ago, she returned to me...my little girl, stumbling, dying through the desert on a windless day...trail of her blood against the sand. In her hands she clutched the most precious thing...the last and dearest gift my daughter ever gave me…”

The tears where now coming out so hard, you couldn’t even speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t blink...all you could do was stare back at your father...your grandfather...as he went on;

“I know not who or what the father of my daughter’s child was, I know only that my little girl’s last words to me before she crumpled to ash were “Sorry”, and all that is left of her is the child you hold, and the blade her soul turned into.”

The demon in chains of light appeared to be holding back sobs, his already weak voice breaking, and his breathe shaking; 

“If I am to do as my daughter did...it will be for the reasons she did so...to protect my little dear one even with my body gone, and it is only by my dear one’s hand that I will be wielded. I shall kill any other who tries...this tower, this lonely, cold tower...it was no place for a child, and is no place for a young women. Please...in turn for giving you all I can give...protect my little one, and show her the world as I never could.”

You shook your head violently, and the man holding you let you go. You landed on the ground, barely able to keep from falling to your knees as you made your way towards him, calling out to him as before your eyes, the long-suffering demon turned to ash. Your name, the last word on his lips, and the soft aqua blue light that lit the torches for you and chased away your fears...bringing you comfort since you were a child...drifted to you...forming a blade roughly the same size as Pazuzu...your mother…

...You grabbed the blade, and clutched it against your chest, sobbing.

 

CHAPTER 1 PLAYLIST:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ylv1_BnD4Q  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWf5pfgH7Y4  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKU9IuPRmHk  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aVxWG2Pczw  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7H9A4996g4U  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOc1O1OYO0U


	3. Beginings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inwhich your adventure begins and Dante proves to be a cockblock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place between Devil May Cry 4 and Devil May Cry 2 on the timeline, but will time jump to the events after Devil May Cry 2 leading up to Devil May Cry 5 at some point. Giving explanations for what we’ve seen in the trailer etc.
> 
> "Playlists" can be found at the bottom of each Chapter. Due to how important epic music is to the Devil May Cry games, I felt it was essential to include these to not only aid in setting the tone, but to foreshadow later events.
> 
> Devil May Cry is not mine. The characters are not mine. I wrote this story for my own enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of the reader.

Chapter 2: Beginnings

 

Your father turned out to be your grandfather then left behind his imprisoned body to become a sword.  
Shortly after revealing that the sword you’ve been using, Pazuzu, is infact your mother…  
...who got flicked out of your hands earlier and was still sitting outside.

You force yourself to simplify everything you had just learned into these two sentences in order to keep yourself as grounded as you can. Desperately trying to keep sight of reality and avoid falling apart as everything thought you knew lay shattered about you. Shaking, you climb to your feet, and hurriedly push aside the men in the doorway as you rush to get outside and find your sword...your mother…

The two men made no comment, just slowly followed behind. Soon finding you seated on the steps up to your room when they finally caught up...holding all that remained of your “family”...the two matching swords in your grasp, eyes wet as you force yourself to keep from crying. Apologizing over and over again to your mother for not recognizing her. When you looked up, and noticed the men had followed you, you clutched both bladed to your chest once more, laughing bitterly, your voice breaking and breathe shaky;   
“...My life is so fucked up.”

“Sounds like you’re in good company.” The taller man, the one with facial hair states with a slight chuckle, taking a seat beside you, much to your surprise. The gaping wound in his chest, and your own shoulder now both pretty much healed, you look up at him, expression much softer.  
“I...I’m sorry…” You curl your knees to your chest, your swords...your family now cradled in your lap, “...No one ever has come here to do anything but bring pain.”

“...And I don’t often meet demons with genuinely loving family dynamics so this is kinda new to us both.” He laughed, “Besides...at least you didn’t impale me. That’s normally how things go when I meet folks for the first time...”

Now that you’ve calmed down, the green is out of your eyes...making them look warmer, less predatory,but full of questions. Confusion, and loss, and you keep your eyes locked on studying the man’s face in order to distract yourself. He was older...much older...but attractive, and shockingly relaxed around you despite you having tried to kill him earlier. Even joking about...impalement, of all things. You think back to how gently he’d brushed away your tears before knocking you out...that...seemed genuine. You lock your eyes on his pale blue ones;

“So what happens now?”

The younger man was leaning on the wall across from you both, and he finally spoke up; “We need the sword to save the world, and you’re the only one who can use the sword, so it looks like you’re coming with us.”

“We’re stuck with you, and you’re stuck with us,” The older man simplified before pretending to yawn, stretching his arm over your shoulders, “So it’s for the best we get to know each other…”

You stand up, still clutching the swords, and start walking up stairs.

“I’ll go pack my things…”

Your father...grandfather...fell because he wanted to help humanity.  
You mother died hiding among them.  
Now it was your turn to go out and try to help them...to be among them...it was oddly poetic.   
Still, you pause halfway up the stairs, unaware that your short shorts are give both men a great look of your perfectly curved, shaped and sized ass from where they are below, and smirk down at the older of the two; “You’re old enough to be my dad, geezer...it’s better you stick with ladies your own age.”

The younger one laughs at the older one from down below, and you turn back and keep walking. Packing clothes, tools, food...trying your best not to think about things. Every time your thoughts slip to how you’ve spent every day of your life in this tower, thinking you were a full blooded demon, thinking your grandfather was your father...you stop, breathe, and look at the swords on your bed for a second, then kept going.  
“You can do this...he wouldn’t have left it to you if he didn’t believe you could do this.” You keep reminding yourself of this...sometimes out loud, sometimes in your head.

You change your clothes to...into something that could repair itself if you need to sprout wings again as well. A black leather hooded coat with a long back that split in two, with mint green lining on the inside, A scarlet scarf with many layers, black leather shorts with matching black straps that went down your legs to hook onto your black combat boots, A white blouse that shows the top of the cups of your lacy black bra, and a loose transparent vest of mint green lace over a short black waist coat with scarlet pinstripes. It’s all the black you have...black being the color of morning. Your...grandfather isn’t dead, but he may as well be. You are unlikely to ever hear his voice, feel his love, or be comforted by the blue flame of his torches again. Sighing, you put on a few matching accessories, zip up your bags, toss them on, and head out into the world you’ve never before seen with two white-haired men you’ve never before met.

What’s the worst that could happen? 

 

Hours later, you were clutching desperately onto the younger man as you two rode on a motorcycle to… “Back to Base” which was...somewhere. You found out their names, and that this one is Nero, and the older one Dante, and they learned your own name on the way here, as well as you pestering them with questions. You learned about cars, electricity, phones, TVs, radios, that Dante likes a food called “pizza”, and what on earth the roaring machine called a motorcycle you were currently riding even was. The only humans you have ever met are the ones who came to kill your grandfather...it’s strange seeing so many people on the street with no weapons...just going about their daily lives. It’ strange not having to hide from them, but just being treated like...another person.  
This is something you never expected from humans.

You clutch Nero tighter, terrified of the concept of falling off something that moves so fast, you consider that you need to watch humans more. Learn more. As you decide on this, you try to shout over the roar of the motorcycle, pressing closer so you can practically do so into Nero’s ear.

“SO WHAT IS BASE, ANYWAY?”

“DANTE’S PLACE. DEVIL MAY CRY.”   
Nero’s answer is shouted over his shoulder, short and to the point. From what you’ve seen of him, he seems to not socialize much, but when he does, it’s with either brutal honesty, or with jokes and jibes similar to the ones Dante makes. Between the white hair, the pale blue eyes, and the way they act towards each other you can tell the two men are related. You asked Dante if Nero was his son and he gave you such a look of shocked confusion and Nero laughed SO HARD at it...at least until Dante recovered and informed you that while that was not the case, YOU are welcome to call him “Daddy”.

To which you responded that as far as you know, he very well could be.

He dropped the subject then.

Your father...who even was your father…? WHAT was he?  
From what you’ve gathered...Dante the half-demon son of Sparda, and Nero is of some relation… But after pestering them with questions, it seems that neither have seen a devil trigger like your’s. Heck...they’ve never seen a demon with a green glow. The closest being that Dante has once seen a similar green glow from within the Leviathan. Leviathan...the world serpent...another creature intended to only be killed at the end of days who’s fate was changed due to Dante’s interference. Heaven’s word and punishment shrugged off of his red clad shoulders like sand. Was this the power of half-breeds? With no rules written down for them, could they challenge fate? Destiny? Was this a power you possess?

Countless questions flood your mind. You barely even notice that the motorcycle had stopped just outside of a ramshackle shop until Nero clears his throat, and reaches behind him to tap you on the head. Keeping his face out of sight as he gave his gruff “We’re here.”  
You pause to stare at him, noting the red blush reaching his ears before realizing that the vehicle had been stopped for some time now, and you were still pressed flush against the young man’s back, with your arms wound around his chest. You apologize, getting quite flustered yourself as you less-then-skillfully dismount. A warm wind whipping around your frame and even playfully teasing your hair for a moment in greeting. Yes...the wind, your dear and only friend, and the only thing that stayed with you of your life in the tower. Now it whispers of a city’s worth of secrets...bringing you snippets of sounds and conversations from the surrounding buildings until you quietly have to tell it to be silent. The onslaught of words it brings far too much for you and your already scattered mind .

You are still trying to convince yourself that you were okay with this....with everything. The mint and red ribbons you tied around into your clothes, arms, legs, and in your hair flow around you as you walk to the heavy wood doors of the rundown building. A pink neon sign over the doors reading “Devil May Cry”, and place a hand against the door, only to find it open, and unlocked. The door opens easily under what little weight you put on it. You look over your shoulder at Nero, who shrugs as dismounts and walks up to you. 

“Dante’s got a thing against locked doors...so the place is always open.”

“But what if humans find out what he is and come to kill him?”

Nero makes a sound that’s something between a scoff and a laugh, tilting his head down, and scratching his neck, his eyes looking up through his bangs at you.

“Trust me; it’s not the humans he’s gotta worry about.”

You feel a heat rush to your cheeks from just the way he’s staring at you. Ribbons swirling and hair seeminging always a mess of strands that flow and curl in the soft breeze that follows you wherever you go, looking like a spirit. Some sort of wild, untamed, beautiful thing that doesn’t quite belong in this city of cold concrete and stone. Still, you are oblivious to how you appear...especially now, with those pale eyes on you though soft white strands, seeming to study your every detail with an intensity that makes you forget to breathe, even as Nero’s more “human” harm reaches towards you, only to land on the door before you both, creaking it open slowly, his eyes still on you. His glowing arm, now hidden with a glove, twitching slightly, and you have the quick thought that he may be about to scoop you up and carry you inside. Although for what reason...you don’t know...but your heart starts pound in your chest. Your breath finally coming back to you in short, fluttering bursts...

The moment is ruined by the roaring engine of Dante’s bike as he finally catches up, parking it beside Nero’s, and grabbing the reason for his tardiness from the back before facing the two of you; A box of Pizza.   
Before he can face you both, Nero removes his hand, letting the door fall shut again as you stand frozen, staring at Dante with your face red enough to match your scarf. You slightly crane your neck to try to hide your face in your scarf as Dante walks towards you both. One hand balancing the box of Pizza while the other expertly opens and pulls a single slice from the box with the skill of a man who has done this countless times. He raises an eyebrow at you both, and smirks;

“GEEZ kid...I leave you with a pretty girl for a few minutes and you’re already getting her that frazzled, huh? What would Kyrie say?”  
Dante’s casually takes a bite of the Pizza after aying this, even as Nero stiffens beside you, his expression unreadable, even as Dante shoves him to the side and opens the door. Keeping it open with his back, Pizza box still in one hand as he waves you in with the other. The Pizza slice clutched in his teeth and hanging off his face like a beard of cheese and pepperoni. 

You laugh, rather from awkwardness, or his ridiculous appearance, you’re not sure, but you laugh hard as you stumble into the shop. Fumbling your way into the darkness. Nero, his back still stiff and expression still unreadable, follows behind you. Glowing arm scraping slightly against a particular part of the wall as you trip over...something in the darkness.  
You hear the Dante walk in, the door closing and making things an even pitcher black, and you trip over another unknown something that clangs as it hits the floor, and you grab something hanging from the wall to catch yourself. A click sounds from Where Nero stands, his hand having finally located and flipped the lightswitch, and you find yourself face to face with the monstrous head of a demon you had grabbed to catch yourself in the darkness. The sudden head startles you, but you don’t scream until you notice that it has been mounted to the wall.  
Then you scream.

You scream loudly...releasing the decoratory remains of one of your own kind, and darting behind the nearest “safety”...Dante who had been standing nearby to put the pizza box on his desk. You clutch at his coat, eyes wide and frightened..the fear you’ve done so well to keep at bay suddenly re-emerging.

“DANTE! W-W-WHAT DID THIS!? WH-WHO DID THIS? WH-WH-WHO WOULD DO THIS TOO-”

“I did.”

Dante’s simple, casual reply left you frozen as you looked up at him, yanking your hands away as if he was a pillar of red-hot metal. He sighs, petting your head with a sheepish, apologetic smile;

“We’re ‘Devil Hunters’, remember?”

That’s right...you had been so caught up in all the new things around you...in the new information you process, wondering what you are and how you may be like them that you forgot that important detail about what they are. The reason you tried to kill them when you first met them...the reason you were with them now…

...not just to save humans, but to kill demons.  
To kill your own kind.  
Suddenly, you are dizzy, and Dante must have noticed the change, as he places a big, strong hand on the slender small of your back, and gently pushes you towards his own chair...the leather one behind the desk. Giving you a moment to sit down and get a hold of yourself again. You feel the back and seat of the chair push Your mother and Grandfather halfway out of their sheathes on your back, and you carefully pull them both out, setting them on the desk before you.

“What you’re used to...is kind demons...loving demons...demons who act...human...and humans who are cruel and act like demons but here? Here, it’s mostly the reverse. There are exceptions. There will alway be exceptions...but you’re going to have to get used to the way the world is outside of your pretty tower, ok?”

The words are still somewhat arrogant...but they still have the kindness to them that you’ve come to expect from this man. You look up at him from where you’ve been staring at the swords that are all that remains of your family, and nodd.

“Human...demon...the important part is that there’s a lot of innocent people about to get pulled into a war that has nothing to do with them. We need to prevent that, and we need you in order to do so. You need to be strong, got me?” He’s cupping your chin, raising your head up so you don’t look down at the blades and think about who they once were...his pale blue eyes surprisingly warm and understanding.

“Your Grandpa...he was entrapped and kept in that state of pain for thousands of years without losing his heart...his ability to love...that same strength is in you, flowing through your veins...you can do this.” The man chuckles, and you stay staring into his eyes...somewhere, deep in your soul you know he’s lost family too...that he’s just as alone as you. That he’s had to say something similar to himself when he has his bad days...his slumps...and now, he’s helping you through your own in that same way. 

“Granted… you’ve got a long way to go on the fighting front, and figuring out what you are would help in that...but for now, we gotta settle on the task ahead. Step by step. We’ll get this done, got it?”

You nod more energetically this time. This man’s words somehow setting a fire inside you that you never knew was there. Courage, motivation, and determination fills you like a wave…

...then suddenly, you have a piece of pizza shoved in your mouth.  
You almost choke on the slice...and you quickly pull it out and cough up a stringy piece of cheese that had dangled down your throat before staring up at Dante in confusion. Your stare turns into a glare when he laughs, and you realize that he was the culprit. Nero, having apparently gotten over whatever had made him so stiff and silent just a bit ago, had put on some headphones, and you can hear the music he’s blasting through them from where you’re sitting as he walks over to the beat of it, and grabs slice of pizza. Twirling with it in his head to the beat in his headphones before coming to lean on the desk, back to you as he chomps down on a slice of pizza. He chews, and swallows, then arches his back, and looks up at you. Soft white hairs just barely brushing against the top of the desk. Briefly, you have the thought of wanting to touch the soft looking strands...and at your thought, the wind seems to giggle softly in your ear, and gently blows the strands for you, affirming to you that they are indeed very soft.

“Sorry about that...Dante’s a clown disguised as a cool and competent man...but it’s really not so bad. Just try it...you’re gonna hafta get used to if you’re gonna be staying here for awhile.” He doesn’t seem to notice the small warm gust that blew through his hair, his eyes trained on you.

You hesitantly lift up the pizza...realizing very well that in their own, strange ways have been doing their best to keep you comfortable, and be understanding. Still, you also knew that if either of them had a choice, they wouldn’t have brought you here, and they wouldn’t be asking you to fight. There was regret, concern, and worry behind both pairs of blue eyes, but you meet it with a warm smile, taking a large bite of the unknown food you were holding.  
Your eyes widen as you chew and swallow...tasting the bread, the cheese, the tomato sauce, the pepperoni and the herbs in the bite, you energetically go for another one. A cheerful chirp and pleased hum leaving you. It was good! Amazing, even! You’ve never had anything even remotely like this before!

Nero gives you a small, but warm smile before sitting back up to continue eating his own slice, and Dante laughed heartily.

“Like it?”

You nod vigorously and swallow your seconds bite, going for a third, and Dante laughs again;

“I knew you were my kinda gal!” He grabs another slice from the box, and cranes his head back, dropping as much of it into his mouth as can fit before chewing, his cheeks ready to burst, and sauce and cheese dripping down his chin. You cover your mouth with a hand and giggle.  
The pizza-eating continues with very little talking in between, Nero tapping his foot to his music the whole while...the tapping turning to a shimmy. Your eyes follow him curiously, and he unplugs his headphones, placing the device they were plugged into into the table, and flicking up the volume with his thumb. The loud, scratchy music with it’s mix of orchestra, opera, electric guitar and screams catches you a bit off guard, but Nero gracefully steps away from the desk, reaching out a hand with a slight playful smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.

“Care to dance?”

Before you can say anything or take his hand, Dante has stepped in, taking Nero’s hand himself, and pulling the younger man into a waltz position.  
“Don’t mind if I do!”

Nero glares at the man and unleashes a stream of choice curses, but you are too busy laughing as the white haired pair waltz across the shop floor to pay too much attention to them. You continue to laugh and clap for a time, but soon, the wind is tugging on your hair and coat...pulling you towards the pair and you can no longer resist the urge to move. The wind continues to swirl around you with the warmth of an embrace, and you stand from your seat and dance towards the pair like a ballerina. Long, elegant legs outstretched as you spin and swirl with the wind and the music around the pair. Giggling softly as they both stop moving in surprise to watch you, and you continue your flow of movement, eyes softly glowing mint green as you almost seem to flow around and between the pair like a spirit. Hands sometimes just barely brushing against and caressign the pair as you do...your body a constant flow of movement, hair and ribbons flowing with you as if they are merely an extension of yourself. Feet so lightly touching the floor that they may as well not be connecting with it at all, as if you’re flying despite your wings not being out.

“Won’t you two dance with me?”  
The wind carries your words around the pair, and you can tell they both want to. They both really, really want to simply let go and join you and the flow of the wind and the music...but Dante brings you to a halt with a hand on your shoulder. Forcing the flow of your movement to finally cease...your ribbons and hair falling back down as you frown at him in confusion. He seems to take a moment to collect himself, but you almost thought you could see a flash of a strange hunger in his blue eyes before it’s gone, and he’s clearing his throat to address you.

“That’s...some trick you got there, sweetheart.”

Your eyes have stopped their glowing...you’re purely confused now, tilting your head as you stare at the man, clearly perplexed. 

Another sheepish smile stretches across Dante’s face, and he motions to the upstairs.  
“The room with clothes all over the floor is mine, Nero prefers the couch...but there’s a guest room up there for you for the time being...why don’t you make yourself at home?”

The offer seems to have come out of nowhere given that everyone had just been messing around, having fun not a minute ago...but you nod, and head up the stairs as Dante whispers to Nero below, the wind bringing you their words.

“...She just almost put us in a trance...although I don’t think she meant to...you okay their, kid? KID!”

PHMP!

You open a door, and hear the sound of a slap connecting to skin. Concerned, you look down at the pair to see Dante’s hand raised, and Nero’s head lowered, hair covering where a bruise would likely form were it not for his demonic healing ability on his face. Still, he raises a hand to give you a thumbs up so you know that he’s okay before waving you off to the room you just opened. With one last glance at Dante, you enter the dust filled room, wondering how you could possibly have been putting the pair into a trance.

You can only assume, as there are no clothes on the floor, that this one is infact, the guest bedroom...but it looks as though it has seen little, if any, use in many years. Dust coats everything, and you find yourself having to raise your scarf over your mouth and nose in order to breathe even somewhat comfortably without coughing. You could hardly stay here with all the dust around. Stepping through the room and leaving behind footprints in the dust, you approach the window currently keeping the room alight with the last remaining light of day. Unhinging it, you open the rusted shut window with ease due to the strength your heritage allows, and you flood the room with wind. The powerful gusts picking up every spec of dust and blowing it around you and out the window to the outside. 

Specs of dust fall down around the shop like snow, carried on by the wind outside, and you pause to watch the specs dance through the air before closing the window, and thanking the wind. The room now entirely dust-free, you take a seat on the old bed, and sigh. So much had happened since you woke up this morning...so very, very much.  
Countless new things and things learned, and now you are in a completely different place with two complete strangers, expected to help them save a world you have never, until now, been a part of. Suddenly exhausted, you roll onto your stomach, raise your arms and tiredly climb the rest of the way onto the bed. Shoving your head into the old, but soft feather pillow with another sigh. Everything is different now. Everything has changed, and nothing will ever be the same again. The uncertainty and fear you’ve been fighting all day clutches you, and again, you find yourself crying.

Yes...you will do your best to be strong...to make your grandfather and mother, still lying on the desk downstairs, proud…

...but for now...at least for this little while...you will let yourself cry. You will give yourself this time to be NOT ok with everything.

...just for now…

 

CHAPTER 2 PLAYLIST:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78fnAisCOIc   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoT0IKFCkEE   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTogEY2fOSQ   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMkz9JF7teY  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ORV5jNRwNE  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-Yik2STv1I  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYivAnh9rTQ


	4. Watchers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some problems are best solved with a hammer to the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place between Devil May Cry 4 and Devil May Cry 2 on the timeline, but will time jump to the event after Devil May Cry 2 leading up to Devil May Cry 5 at some point. Giving explanations for what we’ve seen in the trailer etc.
> 
> "Playlists" can be found at the bottom of each Chapter. Due to how important epic music is to the Devil May Cry games, I felt it was essential to include these to not only aid in setting the tone, but to foreshadow later events.
> 
> I also want to take this time to remind the leader that this fanfiction will be featuring a love triangle between you, Nero, and Dante, and that I have two different routes planned for how this is going to end based on which boy get's the most support in the comments. Afterall, this is you, the reader's story just as much as it is mine. I'm just telling it.
> 
> Devil May Cry is not mine. The characters are not mine. I wrote this story for my own enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of the reader.

Chapter 3: The Watchers

 

As you fall asleep in the guest room above, Dante and Nero have continued talking. 

“That’s at least 1 former Watcher down...we’re on our way, at least.” Dante said, brows actually furrowed in though as he scratched lightly at his stubble.

“That doesn’t exactly help us too much,” Nero replied, shaking his head, his voice matter-of fact as he grew up in the church, and was well-versed on angelic and demonic lore, having once had it pounded into him ever Sunday, and by his school, teachers, and adopted family during the week, “There were 20 leaders over the 200 original fallen angels...7 of them became Kings of hell, but the rest were locked away...that’s a good 13 out there, and we only have one. Plus, between the two of us, we only have the power of ONE King of Hell...Sparda.”

It was the most Nero had spoken all day, and Dante raised a brow, unnoticed by the younger man as he went on:

“...They’ve got 5x that combined...granted, they’re fighting, so we COULD take them on one-by-one, maybe we’d stand a chance...but we only BARELY have a head start on their own “Watcher” collecting, and even just a FEW Devil Arms of this level would allow them to start opening Hellgates…” He gestured to Azazel, now simply a conscious sword on Dante’s desk, power radiating off of it; “I’d say we need at LEAST 9 to break even with them, maybe barely win...but we’d need all 13 to keep them from bringing hell to earth.”

Dante claps, bringing Nero out of his thoughts, and gives him a smirk that somehow manages to be equal parts pride and mockery.

“Well would you look at that...the kid can use his head!”

Nero frowned, putting up a hand and moving it as if Dante’s words were a knat in his ear, mumbling under his breathe.  
“I wish you’d stop calling me that…”

...yet, even after a year, Dante seemed determined to call him “kid”, and Nero had long resigned himself to his fate. As it was, the older devil hunter just smirked slightly ider, and pretended not to have heard the younger man as he inspected the blade on the table.

“...So now, the other issue;” He began, leaning back on his desk, “The girl. We don’t know what half of her is, and she almost accidentally cast….SOME sort of magic on us earlier. She may very well wind up more trouble than she’s worth.”

“She wouldn’t hurt us.” Nero stated it with such confidence, and such a determined glare at Dante that made it clear that he saw this as the truth; “In one day, she’s lost everything she’s ever had or known just so we could have another sword...that’s not a sacrifice given by someone with bad intentions. Plus, we’re the only familiar thing here...she seems more likely to stick to us like a lost puppy.”

Dante chuckled at the mental image of you with little puppy ears and a wagging tail following the pair of them around before placing a hand on Nero’s back;  
“Relax. We’re keeping her with us and safe until this is over and done and we can find her a new home. I’m just being cautious...for all we know, her dad was an incubus...afterall, it looked like she even made you falter a bit earlier, lover boy~”

“THAT WAS DIFFERENT!” Nero immediately growled to defend himself...and he tells the truth...that moment of strange magnetism is completely different from anything he’s felt towards the angelic, perfect Kyrie. He would never do anything to corrupt or taint her perfection...but for some reason, an instinct that he didn’t know he had was brought to surface when he’d spent the countless hours in close quarters with you bringing you to Devil May Cry. Inhaling your scent, hearing the beat of your heart and feeling the heat of your skin against him...a heat no human mortal could have...it did something to him, and gave him the strange urge to...corrupt you. Taint you. Bring your elegant, angelic form to the breaking point and hear you cry out his name like a soiled hymn. He shivers slightly, recalling that brief moment of weakness...his voice getting quieter;

“...I would NEVER betray Kyrie.”

Dante’s hand had never left his back, and he went back to patting Nero’s back now; “Of course not...when I first met you, it seemed like half the words you spoke were her name!”

Nero was pulled out of his thoughts and into a deadly scowl. 

“I don’t say it that much…”

Right then and there, Dante had to retract his hand in order to grip the edge of his desk as he laughed so hard, he could barely stand; “You you shitting me?” he finally managed out between laughs, as he began calling out the name of Nero’s beloved in different emotions and at different volumes, prancing about the table and striking poses of exaggerated distress all the while;

“Kyrie! Kyrie! Kyrie! KYRIE! KYYYYYYRIE!”

Nero growled deeply in warning, fists clenching, and Dante stopped, still laughing so hard that he had to clench his own arms around his stomach. Nero’s mind seemingly back to the present, Dante finally succeeded in getting his laughter to die, standing back up, and his voice a bit more serious now; “Look...you’re not alone, kay? I just have more practice regarding self control is all.”

At Dante’s confession, Nero’s eyes widened.

“...What…?”

“That feeling, that...strange magnetism that makes you wanna see what she’s like with her wings stretched out as she’s bouncing on your-”

Nero looked ready to lunge at Dante, hand even gripping Red Queen’s hilt; “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOUR FANTASIES, OLD MAN.”

“-Your loss,” Dante said with a shrug before continuing, “My current theory is that it’s the angel in her...tainted by the fall of her grandfather as it may be. I’ve never QUITE had it like this before, and I’ve never encountered an angel either, so it just makes sense. Especially since demons and angels were once one race, being drawn to one..wanting to corrupt a creature of light...it could very well just be our own instincts, so don’t think too much about it.”

Nero scoffed, walking over to jump into a sitting position on the couch, and put his headphones back on; that was easy for the old man to say. He was roughly twice Nero’s age, and had had a lot more time to master his instincts...plus, he didn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him. Although...he found is disconcerting that even Kyrie reacted in fear upon seeing his hand for the first time...whereas you just seemed to accept it as a normal part of him, and move on. Not hesitating at all to drift your fingers over both arms during your dance earlier. The thought of that dance along...the wind blowing between he and Dante and circling him...and you joining it...clothes and hair blowing and swirling about...ribbons trailing behind...all playful smiles, gentle touches, no fear, no hesitation...just pure freedom, joy, and sensuality beneath it all that the memory along caused his breathing to hitch before he caught himself. Glaring down at the wood floor before closing his eyes and raising the volume of his music even louder.

Dante, in the meantime, paid the kid no mind. Instead, he finished eating what was left of the pizza before tossing the box in the garbage pin. Chucking it across the room like a frisbee from his chair at his desk, his aim so honed and perfected that even this silly display did not miss it’s mark. Yet, the demon hunter appeared to be in thought as he kicked back and rested his feet onto his desk...causing the blades on the table to shake and clang together. He knows you need to be trained if you’re going to even last through this mess. He’s been talking down everything...it is so, so much worse than what he’s described. Hence why he brought Nero from his island...he knows it’s too much for him alone. The first 7 kings of hell had been the 7 demons who hated humanity rather then wanting to guide it, and Hell had been shaped by that hate...the current kings just descendents of those ancient beings. His father, Sparda, and his own brother, Mundus were the strongest among the Kings of hell...at one point even working together and taking over it all, forming the strongest demon empire in known history, and talking over the human world to boot. That is...before his father rebelled. With his father dead and Mundus confined to hell, Mundus remained the strongest, and thus was able to keep the other kings in line...but Dante had killed Mundus years ago.  
Now, Hell was in a civil war that threatened to take all of humanity with it.

It’s his fault...he KNOWS it’s his fault...that his quest for revenge may very well have doomed them all...but he kept quiet and kept it off his mind. The past couldn’t be undone. There was only the future now...and he was determined to prevent as much as humanity from coming to harm as possible. Despite his attitude, he is taking responsibility in his own way. Still...another “kid” getting pulled into the mess doesn’t sit well with him.

 

Meanwhile, you remain asleep...that moment of the demon who raised you bursting into ash as you desperately tried to reach him replays...but this time, the blade he turned into if huge, and falls from heaven, piercing through him as he turns to ash. You grandfather’s voice comes from the blade;

“Heaven and Hell do not know about you...your mother and I hid your power...do not separate yourself from us for long, or both demons and angels will be catch onto your scent. The Angels will wish to purify you, and the demons will wish to corrupt you. Take care, my child.”

Before you can ask him all the questions that have been swimming in your head since his “death”, his voice suddenly screams, and his bloodied, mangled face emerges from the sword, crying out your name in a pained, desperate cry.

“WAKE UP! ONE IS ALREADY HERE!”

 

You eyes snap open, and you jolt up to a sitting position just as a demon smashes through your bedroom window. Your blades are downstairs...but you still have your forging hammer, the demon arm Ilmarinen. Normally, you only use the hammer to upgrade and repair Pazuzu...your...sword-mom...but it is currently the only weapon on you, and you grip it and try to get off the bed as quickly as you can. Practically falling out of it, your haste having gotten your legs tangled into the blanket and comforter, the demon collects itself from it’s fall through the window before you can recover from your ungraceful fall out of bed, onto the wood floor covered in shards of glass. The demon pounces on you, pinning you down by sitting on your legs. It sniffs you, laughing...the sound hollow and rasping and terrifying, it’s face grotesque...like melting flesh with 5 fly-eyes, and a long, spined tongue that it’s now trying to lick you with as you pull away. You’ve never been attacked by a demon before...only humans...and Dante’s words about you and your grandfather being the exception, not the rule, ring through your head. 

“It seems I am the first to reach you, little Nephilim...the last of your kind...your body and your power are worth much, little angel blood…” 

It’s tongue is longer than the arm you’re using to shove it away, and the dripping, oozing organ slides across your neck, jaw, and cheek...leaving behind a foul smelling trail of spit and vile as you glare daggers into the demon. Just a little closer...and you can surprise it with a hammer to the head...a little closer. You are shaking too much...too afraid to speak...

“You taste of milk and honey, little angel blood!” The demon states cheerfully before shifting to stand up a bit on it’s haunches and spread your legs, sliding you against the glass ridden floor as he does so. You cry out in pain as you feel the skin on your legs and back shredded by the glass, “I’m sure the power you will provide for me when I corrupt you will only be sweeter.”

“Yeah? You sure…?” You ask, your voice more confident then you feel, as his disgusting face comes into range, gripping Ilmarinen tighter and SWINGING. The blow landing with satisfying crunching and cracking sounds, and sprawing blood and what you assume to be something like brains on you. 

“All that sweetness is gonna give you one hell of a toothache, bug boy.”  
The words and the successful blow give you confidence.

The blow is enough for you to get him dizzy enough that you are able to slide back towards the door, and out of his grip. He hisses violently, spraying spittle and yet more blood on you. His face is partially smashed in, and you realize that 2 out of his 5 eyes have been destroyed, oozing out black tar-like goo. The demon seems weaker without them...his lunge at you missing, and giving you a chase to kick him in the face with a satisfying “POP!” noise coming out from under your heel, and as the now 3rd destroyed eye oozes, you are suddenly very glad you slept in your boots.

“MY FAAAAAAAACE!”

The creature cries out in pain and angrish as you climb to your feet. Doing your best to ignore the firey pain of the shard of glass that both cut into and imbedded themselves into your back and legs, you run the rest of the way out the door to the room, standing over by the railing. 

“Heey...don’t sound so sad bug boy...it’s not like you could get any uglier...hell, I think I may have even improved your looks!” 

It hisses again, leaping into the air to attack you, and you make use of it’s poor eye-sight...side-stepping out of the way and letting the demon launch itself over the railing, landing near the couch below and startling Nero up from where he’d peacefully been listening to music. The White-haired young man yanking his headphones down and going for his sword, and Dante stirring at his desk doing similarly.  
However, this is your fight, and you’ve already climbed onto the banister and jumped off, bringing Ilmarinen swinging down into what remains of the demon’s head. It makes a sickening sound as the remaining two eyes not only pop, but the rest of it’s head is obliterated. You tense as it’s body twitches underneath you, but it soon falls limp, and bursts into ash...leaving behind only the blood and bile it got on you as your skin and clothes repair themselves.

The fight now over, you run to Dante’s desk to put your mother and grandfather back in their sheathes, and then run to the kitchen to wash off the foul smelling liquids. 

“EW EW EW EW EW EW…”

You killed him.  
You’ve never killed anything before in your life.  
Why was your life such a mess now? Why didn’t you just stay in your tower? Your safe, happy tower…

...only then you would have wound up sniffed out and attacked by demons and angels anyway, and without anyone to help.

Dante walks up behind you while you clean up, and hands you a towel to dry your face.

“I...I guess I’m a killer now, huh?” You laugh bitterly into the towel, looking down at the floor, not able to look the man in the eyes knowing what you did...even if it was in self defense. Even if you’d poked fun at it to mask your fear...nothing could have prepared you for this...nothing could have prepared you for the terrifying fact that some part of you had ENJOYED ending that demons life. The thought alone made you feel ill...a hand goes to your stomach, and you try not to lose the little pizza you ate earlier.

Much to your surprise, your thoughts are interrupted by Dante pulling you into a big bear hug. Your petite, slender frame dwarfed by his own, big and burly one.

“Once more, babe, you’re among good company.”

You manage a laugh, clutching at his shirt. His voice, now more gentle, whispering in your ear;

“...It get’s easier, sweetheart, I promise.”

...and in that moment...you desperately want to believe in the devil hunter’s words…

...and so you do. 

 

 

CHAPTER 3 PLAYLIST:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoqdZgQ2as0  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqGybo3Is6Y  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyxr9qcQHqM   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5iwIkjyGRo   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VInr-cSNNU   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecztMsSk3Ig


	5. Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inwhich adorable things go terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Playlists" can be found at the bottom of each Chapter. Due to how important epic music is to the Devil May Cry games, I felt it was essential to include these to not only aid in setting the tone, but to foreshadow later events.
> 
> I also want to take this time to remind the reader that this fanfiction will be featuring a love triangle between you, Nero, and Dante, and that I have two different routes planned for how this is going to end based on which boy get's the most support in the comments. Afterall, this is you, the reader's story just as much as it is mine. I'm just telling it.
> 
> Devil May Cry is not mine. The characters are not mine. I wrote this story for my own enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of the reader.

Chapter 4: Instinct

 

Several days had past, and you were finally settling into some sort of...strange normalcy with those in Devil May Cry. This included the beautiful Trish, and clever Lady, who you got along with fairly well. Dante was doing an excellent job of balancing being comforting, fun, and a teacher...although you did have to remind him he was supposed to be teaching you. Nero, to his credit, is a talented soldier, and kind enough to give you advice...but once Dante suggested a hands-on approach, the younger man had decided that suddenly surprise attacking you at random, and going all-out every time was the best way to help hone your skills and instincts. Especially given the time crunch, and that Lady, Dante, and Trish often had to go out to find information or follow leads, leaving you alone with Nero. He’s the closest to you in age, so you don’t overly mind...he’s proven to be good for conversations if and when you manage to get him talking. You two have even spent a few nights both passed out on the couch after having spent the entire night before just...talking. Nero also doesn’t know about his heritage, and was brought somewhere “safe” by his mother as a child to grow up in a place of peace and comfort...well, until Fortuna became overrun with demons. 

He told you about humans, and...Kyrie. The human girl he loved who’s name...hurt you, somehow. The name alone, and how Nero said it, the way his eyes and face would change...it cut into you as sure as any claw or dagger. 

In turn, you told him about demons...about your grandfather, and the wind who’s whispers have for so long been your only comfort and friend. About your mother, the demon Pazuzu, the four winged “King” of the demons of the wind...or rather, “Queen” as you recently discovered. The strongest of wind demons with her eagle talons and scorpion tail. Nero told you that demons often have an element affiliated with them...but he’s never seen a demon connected to wind, or who can talk to it before. Then again, he hasn’t met any “Nephelium” type demons. He promised to look into it, and you have quickly found him far more studious than you thought at first. His aversion to learning and books only pretend...a fact proven when you found a few stashes of books he’s hidden around Devil May Cry, and how you’ve walked in on him reading in hidden places...such as the bathroom.

(As it turns out, Dante’s dislike for locked doors has carried over to the bathroom as well...leading to...many awkward moments…)

You enjoy Nero’s company. You’ve learned to read him...how he turns away and scratches the bridge of his nose when flustered, how he really uses anger and insults to mask how lost and confused he gets at times. The way he instinctively tries to keep his more demonic arm out of sight, and gets surprised when you reach for it, cling to it and hold it. You rather like his arm...it glows the same colors as your grandfather’s comforting torches, and you actually prefer holding it to holding his more...human hand. You’ve seen the harm too many human hands have caused...a fact that you are still trying to get over.

No...you do not dislike being left alone with Nero for days in a row because of his personality, his habits, or even how he spontaneously attacks you at random…  
...you dislike it because sometimes, he gets that look in his eyes… the one you’ve seen in Dante’s eyes before...that was in the eyes of the demon who attacked you your first night in Devil May Cry. The one that looks...hungry. And it seems to happen whenever you two have been close for a decent span of time. During the surprise attacks for practice, he suddenly grips you...eyes flashing red, and a low guttural growl in his throat. If it happens while you two are talking, he suddenly cups your face, moving his own so close...closing his eyes and breathing in the breathe you exhale until the hunger is gone. One time, after you both passed out onto the couch, you awoke to find him sniffing and nuzzling at your neck...he himself on his knees nearly on top of you. Most times when he get’s that look, you do not fear him...instead, you are still, like a mouse entranced by the eyes of a snake. You’re more observative about every little move of the muscles in his face and body...occasionally even leaning into his touch. Sometimes, when he get’s that look, he shoves you as far away as he can, saying Kyrie’s name over and over like a protective mantra under his breath. His demonic strength causing you to sometimes be tossed across rooms, or shoved into walls...hard enough to bruise, crack, or even break bones. He hates it when that happens as much as you. Always giving countless apologies and trying to make up for it with his actions. Anything from bringing you flowers to cooking dinner.

But the bruises and injuries don’t hurt as much as that name.  
It seems to be entirely one-sided, as far as you can tell...but you feel drawn to Nero. Drawn to his light blue eyes and their hints of aqua, his soft white hair and small, soft, rare and precious smiles. Every one of his little habits endearing and wonderful and a perfect little piece of the puzzle that is unmistakably Nero. Yet… you don’t know what to do with this feeling. What it is, what it means, how to act or convey it. So you’ve settled on doing your best to make him happy...getting as many smiles from him as you can and treasuring every single one. This is enough. Seeing him happy is enough.

Much like right now, as you both sit on the couch. Nero’s long legs kicked over the back of it as he reads a book (He gave up trying to hide his little hobby from you), and headphones on while you lay your head on his stomach, watching the fan. Nero, from what you’ve learned, isn’t much of a talker...but he seems to enjoy quiet moments like this. You turn your head to look up at him only to find him looking at you with a soft smile...one that reaches his eyes and softens up his whole face. You smile warmly right back.

Then there’s a hand on your elbow, and the book is tossed into the air as Nero rolls on top of you, loudly proclaiming; “SURPRISE ATTACK!”  
The suddenness has you both surprised and laughing, even as you grapple with Nero on the floor. In terms of physical strength alone, Nero was just enough stronger than you to have a significant advantage in this position, but you are a bit faster than him, and quite a bit more flexible...although that doesn’t help you when he’s got all his weight on you.  
Unable to get into a position to kick him off, you try to shove him, only to have both your slender wrists caught by his more human hand, Devil bringer on the ground beside your face, pressing into the couch fabric.

“Come on, little birdy,” Nero teases, “It’s been over a week and you still can’t escape a pin?”  
You stick your tongue out at him in response, wiggling your hips from underneath him.

“You’re heavy!”

Wiggling your hips while he’s pressed into you like this has apparently somewhat flustered the former knight ontop of you...and he’s avoiding eye contact. This gives you an idea… a devious idea.

“...Hey, Nero, didn’t you say that if need be, then any means necessary to win in a fight should be used?”

“Yeah, that was Wednesday’s lesson,” Nero confirmed, nodding slightly in a different direction entirely from the floor where you lie. 

Good. The lack of eyes on you should make your own “surprise attack” more effective. 

With your legs pinned from his weight, and your wrists held in one of his hands, only your head was available...and there was nothing you could head-butt and not enough room to gather much force for head-butting to be effective. So you were left with a…less than typical method;

You started placing light, sky kisses along devil bringer. (Your first time kissing anyone other then the man who raised you...of course you’re going to be a BIT shy about it.)

“ACK! W-WHAT ARE YOU-”   
Nero instinctively yanked his more demonic arm away from you, and, as it was what he was holding himself up with, wound up toppling over to the side in the process. Giving you juuust enough room and enough time to dart up to your feet and yank your wrists from his grip. You Run away from his with a laugh, shouting “FREEEEEEDOM!” At the top of your lungs.

Nero was left there on the floor...stunning for a moment before picking himself off the floor and leaping over the couch before taking off after you with a smirk, far too much in a fighting mood and enjoying the challenge to even scratch his nose.

“So we’re playing like that now are we?”

Your laughter turned to cursing under your breathe, and you made for your room. You were faster, but only a bit...and in Devil May Cry, there wasn’t much room to run, and Nero was in the way of the door. Which left only one way out that you had time for your bedroom window that was only loosely covered with a tarp after the demon had smashed into it days earlier. Dante having had yet to pay for a new window. Nero caught on quickly, and you could feel the heat of Devil Bringer reaching out for you as you dove out the window, taking the tarp down with you. Falling just out of it’s reach before you felt your wings, tail, scales, claws and horns burst out of you, using your momentum to reach the roof of the nearest tall building in a seemingly effortless glide before taking your human form once more. The pearlescent white feathers with their soft mint glow that fell off your wings during the short distance you flew drifting on the wind about you as Nero reached the window. 

Still breathing hard, you motion for him to come to you, playfully shouting a “Come get me!” Before taking off once more. Jumping from roof to roof, and letting the wind swirl about you and give you a lift when needed.

You’ve never had so many things to jump from in your life...all you’ve known is a lone tower built into a single mountain formed from a solid rock in the middle of mostly flat desert. From the streets, the cities you passed on Nero’s motorcycles below were just a blur of people, grime, noise and lights...but from up here?  
The city was a playground.  
Your playground.

And your laughter echoes around it’s buildings and through it’s streets, carried onwards by the wind as Nero runs and jumps from building to building across the street from you, almost across from you, but not quite able to catch up. You nigh are the wind right now. Wind and freedom and movement. You almost seem to be dancing as you float from building to building, voice full of joy and laughter and song.  
The two of you reach an intersection, and you turn to make your way further into the city as Nero Runs across the steel rods holding the traffic lights. You’re about to run ahead again. You’re about to be out of reach again...but then, he’s calling your name, and you, the embodiment of freedom and ceaseless joy right now, turn around to face him.  
Then He’s caught you. Devil Bring’s fingers...his large, glowing fingers wrapped around your body until he lands on the roof you both now share and brings you to his chest. He caught you…”freedom”...freedom, joy, and wind are filling his arms right now and you wrap your arms around his neck and whisper his name in amazement. Your eyes are mint green now, and as he lowers you to the rooftop his are red, but you are not afraid. Not even a trace of fear about you even as he growls into your neck...his fangs just barely grazing your neck, you only give gasps and soft song-like moans. The claws on his demonic arms just barely grazing over your thigh, and you shiver not from fear but from some emotion unknown to you but so   
all-consuming that you don’t dare fight it...you don’t want to.   
Strands of hair are still blowing around your face and falling into your eyes as you both hear each other heart beats and breathing synchronize into a harmony of dark and light. His breath and teeth trail down from your neck, to your collarbone, and you stretch out your neck into every barely-there touch...his touch so light, it’s almost as if he doesn’t quite think your tangible...as if he expects you to slip through his fingers like the wind itself, but you...this piece of wind...has been captured by him, enraptured by him, and you are happy to be his prisoner. Your fingers are in his hair, tangling in the soft locks, and trailing down his chest, and he realizes you won’t run and his grip tightens, digging into your skin but you don’t care. You are too lost in the red eyed that are so intensely locked on your green ones, on his husky breathes brushing over your face and how he tilts his head slightly and you both lean forwards, and you close your eyes and sigh into the wind around you both and regardless of reality or logic or others this feels like the perfect moment for the perfect kiss…

...but it never comes.  
Nero’s hands are gone. His breath is gone. His heat is gone. He’s up and on his feet and angry and cursing and before you know it, he’s left and you alone in the desert, by yourself on your tower on the cold stone with no one for company except the Wind.

Except it’s not your tower in the desert. It’s a building in a city drowning in a sea of noise that threatens to drown you know that you have realized it’s there. It’s not cold stone but cold concrete that he left you on...among all the cigarette butts and old gum, discarded among the trash, and you curl your knees up to your chest and wonder what you did wrong. What you, who only wanted to make him smile, and bring his happiness, had down to make him curse your name and be left alone with the cold and the trash in a sea of noise.

Dante’s back by the time you get back to the shop, suddenly feeling drained, your head feeling empty but heavy on your shoulders. Nero’s not there, and you don’t know whether you are grateful or sad but you fall to the couch regardless and curl up into a ball. Dante wave a hand infront of your face, bending his knees to be a bit closer to your height.

“Hey babe...kid said he was going back to his hometown to see Kyrie for a few days… did you two have a fight or something while I was gone? He wouldn’t tell me how your training went today…”

You answer only with a groan, rolling onto your stomach. Burying your head into the couch cushion.

“...What happened to your thigh?”

The deep scratch marks Devil Bringer left on your thigh haven’t quite finished healing...likely due to your Nephilim heritage and Nero’s arm being a manifestation of pure demonic power, but still...it amazes you that he’d dug so deeply into you, yet you felt not even a smidgen of pain. Just...something else. Granted, it had hurt making your way back home...and had slowed you down...but you had other things on your mind. Likewise, you’re not sure how to answer Dante’s question...you’re not sure if you should...and you have never spoken enough to enough people to learn how to lie...so you simply answer with a brief; “TRAINING.”

Dante is silent for a time, but you hear him getting up in a few minutes. Heading to his desk, calling over his shoulder to you;  
“Tell you what...you take a nap, get some energy back, and when you wake up, let’s go get some icecream, kay?”

You raise your head from the couch to look up at him, and nod tiredly before putting your head back down. You don’t know what icecream is...but if Dante’s suggesting it, it must be good…

...and something good would be nice right about now.

 

Meanwhile, on a road far away, motorcycle roaring away from Dante's buisness, Rides Nero...skin and hair still soaked from a cold shower, and now, on his bike, the wind feels like sheets of ice hitting him, chilling his wet skin further. Dust and dirt and everything else the city wind carries on these streets getting stuck to his skin. He’d almost done the unthinkable...he’d almost broken Kyrie’s trust in him, and that knowledge filled him with a dread. He tried to hate you as he road. He tried to blame you, you and your laugh and your smile and every flaw he’d found in you that he tried to use to justify himself hating you only seemed to make you more beautiful to him. Those nights spent awake just talking to you was something he’d never done with Kyrie despite being raised with her...there was so much he was afraid to say to her. Emotions and moments he couldn’t get out around her, that you draw out of him, somehow. The words naturally rolling from his tongue and falling from his lips.  
Kyrie still has him keep Devil Bringer away from her when they’re together...not fearing it anymore, per say...but fearing the harm it may cause if he loses himself in a moment. Yet, you so casually brushed over it with your lips in such soft kisses, and only seemed to enjoy having it in your hands, and, as he discovered today...on your body as well. He had never once longed to do anything to Kyrie beyond kissing...she was perfection. Such precious perfection that he held his tongue around hr for fear that just the way he spoke...one vile word would taint her light… how could he ever wish to make love to her? Yet, here he was...longing for another women...for you. For your laugh, your voice, how it leaves your throat like music, and sets his mind and heart at ease, how your presence makes him forget what he is and makes who he is far stronger than his concerns and worries. How your eyes make him want to bare his heart to you...every inch of it. The good sides he makes sure Kyrie sees as well as the bad he hides from her. His bloodlust. The joy he feels in a good fight. The way a challenge in battle sends his heart racing like nothing else…  
...until he met you.

Kyrie loves the human in him, she tells him so, often, but you seem to bring out as well as enjoy the demon in him just as much. Once again, he’s found himself stuck between the choice of humanity or learning more about his demonic heritage, and embracing it...but this is a choice he already made long ago.  
Kyrie wants his humanity.  
So “human” he will be.  
The song Kyrie sings almost every Sunday rings out over his headphones as he rides, and he edges the bike to go even faster as it plays.

 

“Listen to my voice calling you,  
Calling you out of darkness.  
Hear the devil's cry of sin,  
Always turn your back on him.

 

With the wind you go,  
Still I dream of your spirit leading you back home.  
I will give my gifts to you,  
Grow your garden, watch it bloom.

 

The light in your eyes an angel up high,  
Fighting to ease the shadow side.  
Hearts will grow though having to bend,  
Leaving behind all things in the end.

 

Listen to my voice calling you,  
Calling you out of darkness.  
Hear the devil's cry of sin,  
Always turn your back on him.  
On him...  
On him…”

 

CHAPTER 4 PLAYLIST:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BwfuFuYOWE   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfxuydhuQfE   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wl6f0kt29jw   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKME3w0w5zs   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4xGzoyQi6I   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PoIisbJ7HI


	6. Angel's Food Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which ice cream is consumed and many things are foreshadowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Playlists" can be found at the bottom of each Chapter. Due to how important epic music is to the Devil May Cry games, I felt it was essential to include these to not only aid in setting the tone, but to foreshadow later events.
> 
> I also want to take this time to remind the reader that this fanfiction will be featuring a love triangle between you, Nero, and Dante, and that I have two different routes planned for how this is going to end based on which boy get's the most support in the comments. Afterall, this is you, the reader's story just as much as it is mine. I'm just telling it.
> 
> Devil May Cry is not mine. The characters are not mine. I wrote this story for my own enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of the reader.

Chapter 5: Angel’s Food Cake

 

You dreamt as you napped.  
Of being surrounded by a place of shifting soft mint greens and firey reds...Your white wings trailing behind you, and the wind carrying your white feathers with their mint glow throughout the infinite space. Soon, the shifting faded to white, and from what remained of the red, you could see a figure of a black-haired man with his back to you. Black feathers with a soft red glow join your white ones in the air around you both.  
The comforting voice of the wind tickles your ear with a soft laugh...a bitterly longing sound;

“So many things left unsaid...so much grandfather didn’t say...but I’ll remain by your side, and someday, we will meet, and it will all be said at last.”

Wait…”grandfather…? This voice on the wind...this boy...what was this…? Who was he? You try to run to him, but just as you reach out for him, but he stretches an arm out behind him, grabbing your hand. You can just see the corner of his lips as his head turns sightly...open to say something else to you…

_________________  
“Time to wake up!”  
Dante’s voice shatters your dream, and you jolt up, soon realizing that it is Dante’s hand grabbing your own, not the man from your dream, and soon, you are back to reality. The wind always around you still warm and softly blowing...but otherwise silent.

“That’s right...it’s time for the cream of ice…”

“Icecream”, Dante clarified with a grin, releasing your hand and patting you on the back, “You are in for such a treat, babe, trust me.”

You laugh, coming up to your feet, and running a hand through your hair to fix it.  
“Well, let’s go then!”

Some time later, you found yourself sitting in a cafe’ Dante insisted was the best, you poke at the cold, pink creamy thing in a glass infront of you. You’d already had one bite, and you...weren’t exactly a fan of the combined flavors of milk and strawberries on your tongue. Dante seemed so excited though...patiently waiting for your thoughts from his seat beside you. His face fell once he saw you hesitating however.  
“...Not a fan of strawberry, huh?”

Your mouth twitched into an awkward smile as you realized you were caught, and tried to lesson the blow;  
“It’s...it’s not terrible...I like the...texture.”

He frowns, poking your cheek with a finger.  
“You suck at lying, babe.”

You give a defeated sigh, and push your ice cream towards him with a small smile.  
“More for you though! You really like this, right?”

“FUCK YES.”

You laughed to see Dante digging into his now THIRD strawberry ice cream sunday so energetically. Reminding you of yourself as a child whenever your grandfather had managed to use his power to bring you something sweet on your birthday...the only time a year he brought something other then ingredients and milk to the tower. It was good, you think, that you don’t seem to need much food or water at all in order to survive...or there would have been no way your imprisoned Grandfather could have kept you alive through your infancy.

“You know,” Dante spoke up once every drop of ice cream was gone, wiping off the scream stuck to his stubble with the back of his hand; “I’m not awful versed in Nephilim…”

You catch on...crossing your legs and thinking back on the stories your Grandfather told you, and the images he’d so carefully carved into the tower walls.  
“Um, well...the humans have writing about them...half of them describe Nephilim as powerful warriors and heroes who fight for humanity, and others describe them as terrifying monsters who will aide in the end of the world. Truly, though, it as to do with they’re nature...nothing is born evil or corrupt...and Nephilim are no different. Often taking more after their angelic heritage in certain ways when young. If a Nephilim gives into corruption and their demonic side, their wings turn black, and their powers change...likewise, an un-corrupted Nephilim has the choice to “ascend” and completely abandon their demonic heritage to embrace the angel within...some have even returned to heaven. Others...embrace their humanity, and the right to choose who and what they are, switching between the two...but Nephilim who make this choice are locked out of both heaven and hell...trapped into the world of men, they forfeit their immortality.”  
“And you? What will you choose…?”

Dante’s question causes you to look at him with wide eyes, and you clutch your hands together;  
“I...I don’t know...?”  
You spoke it like a question...but your heart already has an answer that echoes through your very soul;

“Whatever fate Nero leads me to is the one I’ll take.”

You knew, deep within you, that your tie to him was somehow tied to that answer. Heaven, Earth, or Hell...Stay, go, Ascend or fall...you would do as he wanted or needed...just to keep him safe...to keep his smile. That unknown feeling is tugging at your heart and soul again...and you wish you had a name for it. Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice Dante placing another dessert infront of you, and you have to pause to blink at it once you register that it’s there. Half of the dessert is a red-brown, and the other half a warm, light yellow-gold. You turn to give Dante a confused look, and the man shrugs.

“It’s half Devil’s Food Cake flavored and half Angel Food Cake...since you can’t decide.”  
You laugh, taking the spoon he hands you and plunging it into the very center of the sides, scooping it up and taking a bite.

“Personally though, sweetheart...in my opinion Heaven would suit you better than the others.”  
The words lacked his usual joking tone, and you turn to him again, tilting your head, unconsciously licking the remaining ice cream from your spoon before laughing, shaking your head.

“I’m far from perfect enough to walk among angels.”

“No human, demon, or even angel is, darlin’.”

“Except Kyrie.”

Her name leaves your mouth without thinking...bitter on your tongue, and burning your throat as it leaves...leaving behind only a gut-twisting nausea that you attempt to pacify by shoving several more bites of ice cream down your throat. Your tone of voice isn’t lost on Dante, and there’s as much pity and understanding in his blue eyes as much as his usual playful cheer. He’s been suspecting it from the start...every look you two give each other...the times he’s found you both passed out on the couch...your head on Nero’s shoulder and his arm around your shoulders. He’s been teasing you both about it...but in truth, he wishes he had some advice...some wisdom to give you both to keep you both from burning one another up. Nero is tough...but he feels you have neither the experience nor built up resilience to survive the harm this can cause you. Still...he can’t find the words...so instead, he shrugs it off;  
“Even Kyrie. Nero’s put that human girl on too high a pedestal...in truth, those two are both terrified of being anything short of perfect infront of each other, and that lack of communication and honesty is gonna bite them in the ass. Plus, there’s just...something that doesn’t sit right with me…”

He shakes his head, and you pause your ice cream eating to reach over, and tuck a few soft, white strands…(they’re as soft as Nero’s…) behind his ear, urging him on with a gentle smile. For a second, he marvels at how easily you draw the truth out of him, both of you facing each other now, knees brushing.

“...I haven’t told him, but I can tell from his smell, from his face, his eyes, his hair...from the way he fights to the way he stands...from the moment I first saw him I knew; He’s the son of my brother, Vergil. But...Vergil hated humans...so I have no idea who his mother could possibly be, and then, the Order built this huge machine...this “Savior” that was made to use me as a battery. They found out he was of Sparda blood and used he and Kyrie instead, but...a Quarter demon and a Human don’t have the same amount of power as a Half Demon. It shouldn’t have worked...the math doesn’t add up...but it did.”

Dante sighs, resting his hands on his knees, his hands brushing your own as they do so;  
“Either Nero’s mother was more than human, or Kyrie is...but there’s something there, and it just doesn’t sit right with me…”

You place your hands over his with a soft smile, and he can practically see your wings, even though they’re tucked away for a second.  
“You really worry about him, huh?”

“He’s the only family I have left, babe...I can’t help but want to look out for him. I’ve lost too much too many times not to.”

You nod in complete understanding. The blades that are the transformed souls of your Mother and Grandfather still sheathed on your back...the only family you had known, and the family you never got to know both taken from you. 

“So many things left unsaid...so much grandfather didn’t say...but I’ll remain by your side, and someday, we will meet, and it will all be said at last.”

You recall the words from your dream, and pull away from Dante...unaware that he’d been leaning ever closer to you while you’d been in thought.  
“Dante?”

He straightens up to a normal sitting position, masking disappointment like a pro.  
“What, sweetheart?”

“Have you ever met anyone like me…? Even a little?”

“None, babe...well…” He pauses...thinking carefully, “There was one women, when I was much younger...a sweet lady with an amazing voice...caught her singing in a bar one day...but I may just have been drunk...and, well…”

He gives you a sheepish, yet smug smile;  
“...I had a LOT of ladies around that night.”

You frown, elbowing him and scolding him not to joke around when you are asking serious questions, and he just laughs. Blocking your “attacks” for a bit before pulling you into another hug so you can’t elbow or hit him anymore. You curse his name while laughing, and the two of you decide to head home.

Funny, how Devil May Cry has become “Home” to you.

 

____________________  
Nero is at the end of the long bridge connecting Fortuna to the mainland, back on the island where he grew up now. Most of it has been repaired from the damage done 5 years ago...the rubble cleared, and the lost buried. Kyrie had lead most of it, now a respected and powerful leader on the Island. He could see her coming down the many stairs from the church to great him now, another of her long white dresses on...looking like an angel.  
His angel.  
He parks a short distance from the base of the stairs, kicking down the bike stand and shutting off the motor before expertly jumping off the bike, and running up the remaining steps to meet her halfway, throwing his arms around her in a hug.

“Kyrie…”  
Her name comes out a breathy whisper as full of reverence as a prayer. She smiles, as she always does...even when she’s seen him in angrish, and in pain, and swallowed by loneliness...she’s always been smiling. She says his name as she always does, in her quiet, innocent voice;  
“Nero. Did you do it? Is everything alright now?”

Nero sighs; “Not yet...but we’re closer now. Dante came in with another Grigori Devil-Arm before I left, and we got Azazel too.”  
She smiles; “If anyone can save this world, it’s you, Nero.”  
The words come from her mouth, and that alone makes him believe them...drinking them down like a baby drinks milk. It takes him a moment to figure out what else to say...he’s always so careful with his words around her. He scratches the back of his neck and looks down at the marble stairs as he speaks.

“So…? What’s been going on around here…?”  
Kyrie’s smile widens, and she grabs his mis-matched hands, holding them in her’s...taking extra care with Devil Bringer to keep the claws away from her hands as she does so.  
“Oh Nero, it’s wonderful! Agnus’ daughter, Nico returned to help us fix things...and she knows how to build you an arm!

“You can finally get rid of Devil Bringer!”

 

CHAPTER 5 PLAYLIST:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pa8iyHzHUSQ  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPyPctZj7QE  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJNvcE9nqj4  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENwFAmeWEYk  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSix5Q3lbmk  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdrgTAt6Qxs


	7. Windswept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies and Observatories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd be surprised how much research I did going into this. From the fallen angels to the 7 princes of hell to Dante's Inferno to the book of Enoch to Demonology...you could look up a lot of the things I mention and find them having some basis in religious texts of religion-inspired writings, so if you are a geek for mythology and cultures like me, feel free to look things up! From the Goat Rite mentioned in Chapter 1 to Azazel, Pazuzu, and any other demons or angels mentioned...feel free to give it a look!
> 
> Devil May Cry is not mine. The characters are not mine. I wrote this story for my own enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of the reader.

Chapter 6: Windswept

 

It was another week before Nero returned. While he was gone, you spent more time with Dante, training with him instead. The older devil hunter ensuing that you had a blast while you did so...even helping you incorporate your dancing and the Wind into your fighting until they were blended nearly seamlessly. Once Nero was back, Dante didn’t hesitate to immediately set him to work, patting the younger man on the back and handing him a letter from Lady, stating;

“Get some rest. You’re both headed out after the sun rises in the morning.”

Nero raises an eyebrow, and you feel your muscles stiffen up from where you’re seated on the couch...normally, you’d hug him in greeting...but after what happened and they way he left, you’re...more nervous.

“ ‘Both’...?” He finally asks Dante, the question surprisingly cold, and you can almost hear your heart freeze at the tone...what happened while he was gone? This was hardly the Nero you were familiar with. 

Dante pointed a thumb at you, and now it was Nero who was stiffening up.   
“...You know I work best alone…”  
Dante rolled his eyes;

“Look; I’m not sure what happened between you two, but it’s us against hell trying to stop life from becoming hell on earth right now...little playground fights arn’t exactly as important as that. Get out there, get things sorted, and get your selves back on track.”

You studied Nero for the first time since he got back...Devil Bringer glowing softly from the sling he used to hide it, his clothes the same, hair a bit of a mess from the long ride here...he looked normal, except for his eyes. There was something swirling within them...a storm of emotions and uncertainty. Quietly, you prayed to any being willing to listen that he’d let you talk to him...or at least let you listen. Regardless of...your crossing of lines from before he left, you still very much wanted him to remain a part of your life. A friend, even, if possible.

Nero catches your stare, and seems to be about to say something...but instead he frowns, clutches at Devil Bringer with his left hand, and marches over to you, finally speaking to you for the first time in a week.

“...You mind moving off the couch? I’m gonna be driving us...I need sleep.”

You nod mechanically, getting flustered at your rudeness, and quickly get off the couch, walking over to stand by Dante, who nonchalantly ruffles your permanently messy, windswept hair. You smile up at him, and he smiles fondly down at you;  
“...you’re gonna knock this out of the park, babe.”

Nodding, you thank him before heading upstairs to get some rest yourself. Dante still holding his hand in your hair, and watching as the strands slip away as you go, turning to Nero once he hears your bedroom door close. 

“What the fuck happened? You were her best friend before I left, now you’re just being an asshole to her, kid...and that ain’t no way to treat a lady.”

“Well, there’s only one ‘lady’ I care about treating like a lady, so that works out.” He sassed right back...his voice bitter and tired.

Dante shook his head, “Kid...you’re doing yourself no favors by lying to yourself...and you sure as hell ain’t doing that girl, either girl...any favors either.”  
Nero growled curses at Dante under his breath...but the older man was already headed to his own room, giving Nero nothing but his signature, two fingered wave as he headed upstairs. Nero eventually turning to grumble into the couch’s armrest instead until he eventually fell asleep.

 

Dante was gone by morning, apparently having left on his own mission so you could all cover more ground together. Nero’s ride to Devil May Cry must have been more exhausting than you thought, however, because you were up first, and went to the fridge to   
make breakfast. You were used to cooking with open flame in your tower, so it took awhile and some help from Lady, but you eventually figured out how the flame-summoning device known as a “Stove” functioned. You could use it quite well now, even, and had managed to convince Dante to stock it with ingredients much like the ones your father used his magic to bring in from the towns around the desert. You used to just eat the vegetables, fruit and meat raw...but after you got sick several times, your Grandfather insisted on you using his blue flames to cook things. Over the years with a fire, ingredients, loneliness and boredom, you managed to get quite creative when it came to cooking. Not knowing any recipes...just combining things until you found combinations that tasted good. Now that you’re here, Lady has gifted you with a cooking book as well, but you still enjoy playing around with things and combining them, often deviating from recipes with delicious results...although said results typically looked strange.

The smell of your cooking awakens Nero, and you hear him stirr. Over a week ago he’d eaten some of your first attempts with the stove...eating every bit you gave him even if it was burned, under or over cooked. You had called him on it, and he’d given you the warmest smile, explaining that he’s never had this before...waking up to a home with others, having meals together around a table...waking up to the smell of breakfast…

“...I used to wish for little things like this when I was a kid...I think that’s more than worth a little bit of burnt edges, don’t you?”

You’d blushed and admitted you’ve never had anything like this before either. Your Grandfather was there, sure, but he couldn’t never exactly leave his ancient chains behind to walk with you, eat with you...hug you. Just about every form of physical contact was new and alien to you, and you admitted that you enjoyed the warmth of others quite a bit, so you purposely initiated physical contact often. Nero laughed and stated that in that case, you could hug him anytime. He gave in when you asked to play with his hair while he was reading, let you take a nap resting your head on his lap...all sorts of little things. You two were so comfortable with each other…

Now, he get’s up from the couch, stretching his limbs, cracking his back and neck, rolling his shoulders, and sits at the table in silence as you bring him his food. Watching you with the same turmoil you spotted last night, in addition to a new caution as he watches you. You know it’s your fault...and that fact...hurts. It hurts as you place his plate infront of him. It hurts as you get your own plate. It hurts when you sit across from him instead of beside...and after a few seconds of you both sitting there, poking at your food, you can’t take the pain anymore and you blurt out;

“I’m sorry I left!”

You freeze...that was not your voice. That was Nero’s. You stare at him in startled silence, wide-eyed and blinking.

“Look...I tried to blame you for what happened...but in the end, it’s me who...started things that way. Then I just shoved you away and cursed at you and left you alone in a big, strange city you’ve never been out in before especially by yourself even though you hate being alone, made you walk home alone after...doing that to you and up and left without a word.” Nero sighs, yanking a hand through his bedhead while frowning down at his food;  
“FUCK I’m an asshole.”

“W-well I’M sorry.” You insist, frowning yourself, “None of that would have happened if I hadn’t kissed your arm to get away in the first place, and it’s...not like I tried to get you to stop...infact, I encouraged you onwards despite knowing you had...Kyrie…”

The name, as always, is painful to get out, but you continue regardless;  
“I ignored your feelings and went with the flow of the moment, and it may have cost me my first and only friend...I...I’m so sorry.”

You’ve been holding these words in for a week now...and while part of you is relieved to get them out, part of you is also terrified of Nero’s reaction, and you watch him closely. He sighs again...scratching his nose before finally saying;   
“...You have no idea what you’re doing or feeling, do you?”

Bullseye.  
You really have little idea about anything pertaining to relationships, or your feelings, or physical interactions. You...should probably work on that before you cause any more issues for Nero.

“Well...I know I want you to be happy…that’s all I understand, really, but I clearly managed to fail even at that, huh?” You laugh sadly, looking up at Nero, “I’ll do anything in my power to prevent such a thing from happening in the future. Promise.”  
Your words, though a bit childish due to your awkwardness at the moment, are earnest. Nero seems to catch that, and manages a small smile at you. “Hey...given where you came from, you can’t exactly help it. I...guess I can educate you on the way there...I can’t have you doing anything like that ever again afterall. Hell, I can’t go around doing anything like that to you either.”

He shoves the last bite of his breakfast into his mouth, chews it quickly, then swallows, speaking as he stands up;  
“I plan on asking Kyrie to marry me soon.”

Suddenly, you’ve lost your appetite. You can practically feel your heart jumping into your throat, and you a good minute, you struggle to speak, or even breathe.   
“R-really? When?” You finally choke out the words...a fake smile plastered onto your face.  
“In a few months...I ordered to have the ring custom-made while in Fortuna. We’ve been dating for about 6 years now...so It’s about time.” Nero’s completely laid back about this, or at least, seems to be. His back is to you while he goes around, gathering supplies for the mission, and you can’t see his face.

“I...suppose it is…” You fidget for a bit before standing up yourself, dumping your untouched food into the garbage, then going around gathering weapons and supplies yourself. You have no idea about relationships...is that normal? How long is this “dating” thing supposed to last? Is that too short? Too long? You have no fucking idea but you only got here a bit over 2 weeks ago and this feels way too soon for you.  
But this is Nero’s life that you’ve intruded on.  
More then anything you want him to be happy...you just wish the things that made him happy weren’t so...painful.

“So, umm...anything else interesting happen while you were there…?” You’re fastening Ilmarinen to strap on your thigh, leg propped up in the kitchen counter, but you see Nero stiffen, turn to see your leg up, and turn away quickly, the tips of his ears getting pink. He doesn’t otherwise answer, however, instead, he shrugs his denim coat on and asks you a question.

“...So the hammer’s a Devil Arm too…? I know the story behind the swords, but...where’d you get a Devil Arm hammer in a tower in the middle of nowhere?”

“Ilmarinen was my grandfather’s...but he wasn’t a demon. Ilmarinen’s been the way he is since before the fall...before demons came to be. My grandfather, Azazel, taught humans how to create...how to forge metal, to make anything and everything from doorknobs to blades. He taught them how to make simpler things like makeup and skin cream too...but Ilmarinen was his assistant helping him teach humans how to make only the strongest weapons. He...died protecting my grandfather during the revolt...this hammer is the result of his soul wanting to continue helping my grandfather and humans create.”

“So it’s...an Angel-Arm…?”

“Pretty much.”

“What’s it do?”

You unstrap the Hammer, holding it up;  
“...Well...it’s just a normal hammer on it’s own...but if you toss me Red Queen, I can show you how he works…”

Nero turned to glare slightly at you, protectively holding Red Queen. You try to give him a comforting smile, and he narrows his eyes at you;  
“...if you so much as dent her, I’m gonna break your arm.”  
Still, he walks over and gently lays Red Queen down on the counter infront of you, and you raise Ilmarinen up, and bring it down towards the Red Queen…

...before it can strike her, a mint green glowing disk of symbols appears, and you start hitting the symbols. Red Queen slightly changing according to what symbol you hit.

“Ilmarinen is basically an all-in-one portable forge,” You explain, “Using him, I can upgrade, hone, harden, and even create weapons almost instantly. I’ve been using him to tinker with Pazuzu since I was young.”

Nero watches with wide eyes, then taps on your shoulder, gesturing for you to hand him Ilmarinen, and you do so without hesitation, giving him advice and guiding him, even translating the symbols. It takes almost and hour, but finally, Nero is satisfied with the small changes and upgrades he’s made to Red Queen. You smile slightly...proud to have been trusted enough by Nero for him to allow you to take a hammer to his precious sword...likewise, he’s amazed that you trusted him with Ilmarinen. Both of you leave the small encounter much happier then you were an hour ago, however, and after a few more preparations, you both head outside to go to the location in Lady’s letter.

On the way there, Nero gives you your first sex talk over the roar of the engine as you cling to his back, and clutch at his chest...asking questions that have Nero laughing the whole way there at just how clueless you are.

It took the entire day to reach the destination...night had fallen when you both reached the old ghost town. It consisted of only a few empty, broken down shops covered in graffiti, a dozen or so old houses, a city center with a broken fountain that looked to have once been an angel, and an old, gothic style church. Up on a nearby mountain, however, there appeared to be an ancient Observatory. It’s silhouette against the star-filled sky black and hollow. You nudged Nero with your elbow;

“That’s where we’re headed, right?”

Nero nodded, glancing down at Lady’s letter; “We’re here about a lead to the Grigori, Kokabiel.”

“The Star of Heaven”.

“What…?”

“Kokabiel...Kôkhabîêl...it means “Star of Heaven”.” The answer comes naturally, almost without thinking, and you look around, spotting the start of an old staircase, you gesture to it, “So, we can go up those shakey, falling-aparty-looking stairs, OR…”

Nero crosses his arms over his chest; “ ‘OR…’?”  
You grin at him, allowing yourself to be surrounded by your usual mint glow, and your eyes, now glowing mint green, glitter with mischief as your wings and the other features of your true form come out, and take to the air. 

“NOW THAT’S JUST FUCKING CHEATING!” Nero shouts at you from below, and you laugh...swooping down to wrap your arms around his waist, and lift him up into the air with you. You giggle; “Better…?”

“A...a bit…” Nero fidgets a bit in your arms...not comfortable with, or used to this mode of transportation...at all. Luckily for him, it only takes you a few minutes to reach the old observatory. You drop him from a few feet above the ground, and he stumbles trying to regain his footing.

“Yeah...wings...flying...useful.”   
You laugh again. You haven’t been able to stretch for wings the entire time Nero was gone...and it’s always weird for you. Keeping your human form most of the time when this is the real you...making entire limbs...entire parts of you disappear is...strange, to say the least. Yet, for whatever reason, you can’t seem to maintain it...likely since it’s an unstable combination of angel and demon. You unwillingly land and drop the form, walking to Nero’s side.  
“It’s more fun when you’re the one with the wings.”

“I’m sure.” Nero says...and you can see him raise an eyebrow at you under this silvery moonlight, and the lights of the thousands of stars. You look up again to admire them.

“I missed these...there’s so many of them you can’t see from the city.”

Nero smiles softly from beside you; “You can’t see most of these from the island either...but...there’s a few stars that look...strange.”  
You follow his gaze, narrowing your eyes to get a good look at the stars he’s looking at, only to notice about a dozen or so of them are moving towards you both. Nero quickly seems to come to the same conclusion you do, and grabs you, pulling you with him into the observatory as he cocks Blue Rose.

“Yeah. Those arn’t stars.”

The constellation-like demons, all with multiple glowing, star-like eyes land around the cliffside of the observatory, following after the two of you, and making their way into the old structure.

“Shit...they must have caught on to what we’re doing!” Nero picks off one of them with Blue Rose before they rush the observatory, but these are not like the weak demon who crashed through your window a few weeks ago. Their bodies are almost jelly-like...and when they all try to enter the building at once, the doorway forces them together, and they come inside as a single, huge jelly-like being full of countless glittering eyes. Nero has you stuck between him and the wall, and is now drawing Red Queen.

“Nero...MOVE.”

“Stay behind me where it’s safe.” He braces for an attack.

“Nero I am here to fight WITH you!”

“Don’t need you. I can deal with these guys.”

You groan. Normally, his independence and protective nature are endearing...but not right now. You’ve been training for things like this, and you are...oddly enough, itching to see how you’ve improved, and, more importantly; you want to fight by his side, and make him proud.  
It’s difficult to make him proud while hiding behind him.

The wind whispers in your ear that it wants to “play” with you...and you smile.

Nero doesn’t see the green glow behind him until you’ve launched yourself far above his head, and have landed behind the blob-demon, on the steps leading up the observatory, and turning back to your human form once more. The wind circles around you, laughing, and you take both Pazuzu and Azazel from your back...duel wielding the souls and strength your family left you. You take a moment to study the demon’s glowing, star-like eyes, remembering the demon that burst through your window. How it had died after it’s eyes, (and well, head) were destroyed.

Nero seems to have the same idea...and he’s down below, slashing and shooting through the jelly to get at the glittering eyes. Each time one goes out, a lump of it’s jelly like body pops off, landing on the floor, unmoving. You follow suit...attacking the eyes behind and ontop of it from your position with your blades. Using the wind swirling around you to keep from falling into it because...you don’t want to know what would happen to you if you got stuck inside this thing. A fate surprisingly difficult to avoid since the creatures many gooey limb-tentacles keep swinging at you. Forcing you to run and jump along the stairway while you slash at it, or even between slashes. Soon, however, all the glowing eyes have gone out. The observatory is dark now, and Nero say’s what you’re thinking out loud;

“That’s it…?”

You resheath Pazuzu and Azazel, brow furrowing in thought; “...they were well camouflaged too...maybe they were just scouts searching the area?”

“Or scouting ahead of the group,” Nero adds, stepping through the goo to search the base of the tower as you continue up to search the top, “We need to hurry and find that Grigori before they get here and make our job harder.”  
You nod, realizing that Nero can see better in the dark then you, as he barely makes a sound down there, and your near-blind groping about for clues has resulted in you stumbling around, banging your knees on things and acquiring several splinters and even gashing your hands, knees, and feet, on rusted nails sticking out, broken glass, and scrapes of rusty metal and hissing curses under your breath.

Below you, Nero’s voice is practically a growl;  
“Can you please not bleed all over the fucking place?” He mumbles under his breath, and the wind carries his quiet words to you; “...smells like milk and honey...driving me crazy…”

...That’s right...the demon who attacked you before mentioned that too...your taste and scent seems to come across as that of “milk and honey” to demons...and Nero is no exception. You try to keep this in mind as you continue...not wanting to cause him to get that “hungry” look and possibly lose him forever. You continue your search...but slower...more carefully…

...and your hand wraps around something metal and cylindrical. The metal cold to your touch, you lift it closer to your eyes, trying to see it in the darkness;

A Telescope…?

Looking though it, you watched as through it’s lens, the floor where Nero stood became a hole that you cannot see the bottom of...a spiral staircase along the walls spiraling down into the darkness. It reminds you of your tower...but the moment you pull the telescope from your face, it’s gone. You place the telescope back on your face, and realize that there’s no way to get to the staircase or down the hole unless…

...you pull the telescope away again, and kick a piece of glass down below...it hits the ground as expected.

Nero reminds you to be careful as he keeps looking around, and you use his distraction to put the telescope back up to your face, and kick another piece of glass down.

This time, as you watch through the telescope’s lense, the glass falls through the floor, and down into the darkness.  
A few minutes later, you hear it hit the bottom and shatter. That caught Nero’s attention, and he looks down at the ground below him, realizing the sound was echoing up from somewhere below..

“What was that?” He looks up at you and sees the telescope, and calls out your name, “Give that to me!”

It occurs to you that if you give him him the telescope, he will likely go in without you and leave you stranded out here until he’s done…

...it also occurs to you there there is no way in hell you are letting him do that.  
Still, you hate being alone...especially in the dark, and he has more experience in battle incase there’s more demons down there...so you make a quick decision, and put the telescope up to your face as you leap off the second floor of the observatory, and onto Nero...sending the both of you plummeting into the darkness.

 

CHAPTER 6 PLAYLIST:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ai8EG1zpMEs   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FO3yXqhTs0I   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RI-HOQ27QEM  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvbErM6ZTBA  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFNUlOdJ14o   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6WmmATbpbY


End file.
